


Rules of Engagement

by Cheers



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-11-01 23:25:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheers/pseuds/Cheers
Summary: ...aka the Impossible Threesome :D, a smutty, slightly OOC take on my favourite character in a tricky situation(written in March 2010, cross-posted from FFnet)





	Rules of Engagement

_all is fair in love and war_

Something is wrong. Guy has never been one to trust intuition, but he _knows_.

He dismounts in the dark courtyard and throws the reins to the groom, impatient to get to his chambers at the castle. He has been married to the Lady Marian of Knighton for more than a year now, since she reluctantly accepted his hand when Nottingham was under siege moments before the attack was called off, and ever since that day he has done what was in his power to prove her wrong on her reservations about marrying him. It has worked better than he initially feared; theirs has been anything but a cold marriage, and after the son and heir was duly born, their passion resumed unabated. But he has never been able to get rid of the nagging fear of losing her. At first he was terrified of her run-ins with Vasey, thinking that her belligerent opposition would spell her doom. After Vasey died of an apparent bout of gluttony and Guy succeeded to the post at last, he still feared that she would, one day, leave him and flee the castle to go back to her once-beloved Robin, who had ostensibly abandoned his pursuit of her after their wedding but was now installed at Locksley, reinstated to him by King Richard’s orders, too close to Nottingham for comfort.

Guy has been away for five days, gone to a tax council in York, and has declined repeated invitations to a grand banquet to make it back to Nottingham at nightfall. Even though his farewells with his wife were the usual mix of reserved and playful and taunting and mock-severe, even though he has lived with her enough and learned to trust her enough to know that she will not necessarily run away from him the moment he is out the door, he could not shake the present uneasy feeling ever since he left. Perhaps he has had it too easy with this marriage.

His heart races and his breath catches as he sprints up the stairs, brushing past a couple of maids who scurry to get out of the way. He tries to reason with himself, telling himself that his fear is misplaced, and when it fails, tries to hold on to some semblance of outward composure – but still bursts into the bedchamber so abruptly that the heavy door bangs against the wall and almost hits him when it bounces back, and a candle flickers wildly by the bedside.

His appearance is met by a sharp gasp – and by two pairs of eyes staring at him from the bed.

His wife’s… and Hood’s.

For an instant, a dark blur descends over his vision, but even though he draws his sword in that same instant, he stays rooted to the spot. Something about her level gaze holds him on the edge of the precipice.

She does not move to shield Hood, and she does not seem afraid. She does not even look guilty. Instead, she looks hurt – and it takes him another moment to realize that her expression reflects his own. Most incongruously, there is also a tinge of annoyance, as if Hood’s hands glued to her breast and thigh as she sits on the bed in her nightshift were a minor nuisance.

He finally registers these details, and the frozen tableau is broken. In two quick strides, Guy is at the bedside. His first intention is to run Hood through, but in the short time that it takes him to reach the bed he decides that stabbing him would be too clean and easy; Guy wants to make his enemy suffer. He flings the sword across the room and lifts the other man bodily in mid-air, fabric straining and ripping as Guy’s fists clench to grab him. But the effort momentarily diverts his rage, and he stands panting, still holding Robin, who for once is too stunned to struggle, and staring at his wife.

“He came here…” she says very quietly, but in an even voice, “to see me… but I did not… invite this. Punish me if you wish, kill us both if you wish, but I swear I was not going to betray you.”

“You were just going to make me into a cuckold,” Guy spits bitterly. But her assurance, improbable as it is, has knocked the wind out of his fury for a moment.

“I wanted no such thing,” she insists. “I… we had… shared some endearments… before you and I were married… but I had no intention of giving in to Robin now.” She tries to ignore the hurt flashing across Robin’s face. “I just… did not stop him soon enough.”

Guy keeps glaring.

“Nothing has happened besides what you have seen,” Marian continues. “If you want me to prove my loyalty to you, take me here, now, I am still your wife and I have no plans to lie with any man other than my husband.” The last part is directed as much at Robin as at Guy.

For all her proficiency in distorting the truth, Marian is not lying this time. Since her wedding, she has done nothing to seek out her former betrothed, even though she was anguished to hear of his heartbreak. Yet what hurt her more was listening to subsequent tales of Robin soon finding solace with willing women. She suffered in silence for a while, but eventually persuaded herself that her husband deserved better from her than her secret pining for another man who was obviously capable of leaving her behind. And when Robin finally came to her at the castle, using Guy’s latest absence as an opportunity, it was vanity and pride, more than love or lust, that prevented her from stopping his advances. She was flattered – even vindicated – to see that Robin still yearned for her, but in indulging her vanity she has slipped too close to disaster.

Guy is torn between heartbreak and rage at her apparent betrayal, and the forlorn hope that she is telling the truth. Yet when he speaks again, he is outwardly in control, and there is no trace of desperation in his expression and tone. Instead, his words are accompanied by a grin of unadulterated evil as his eyes burn into Marian’s, checking for her reaction.

“You would do that, would you? Sacrifice your body to your loathsome husband to protect your dear lover?” enraged as he is, he is still satisfied to see her wince in protest at the word _loathsome_. It gives him pause, though only for an instant. “What if I do not accept your sacrifice? What if I take _him_ instead?” he expects her to crumble, to beg and plead, but all he hears in response is a gasp of surprise. “Will it break your heart if your precious Robin takes your place?”

The one to remonstrate is Hood himself.

“You try it, Gisborne,” he hisses, “and I will show you…”

“What?” Guy’s voice is gleeful in its vengeful mockery. “Show me how much you like it? Try to resist, and I will show _you_ what your entrails look like.” He gives a devilish chuckle. “You _may_ like it, you know.”

Robin, his feet back on the floor even though Guy’s hands are still gripping his shoulders, twists his head to lock eyes with Guy. They stare at each other, both livid and out of breath, and the longer this silent challenge continues the more confusing it feels… to both. The heat raging in their eyes as they hold each other’s gaze started out as pure fury, _must_ be fury, _should_ be fury… but as Robin’s hand grips Guy’s shoulder and their eyes widen, both realize they are trembling with something that is not entirely fury – not entirely, or not at all, for it has given way to a most unlikely sensation.

Lust.

Suddenly, all rules are broken and all bets are off.

The woman on the bed watches in dumbstruck amazement as the two men, her husband and her one-time betrothed and would-be seducer, stay locked in this twisted version of a lovers’ embrace. Guy breaks his gaze away from Robin’s to flash her a look of vicious triumph – and dips his head until his mouth is upon Robin’s in a forceful, possessive kiss.

It is the last thing Robin may have expected, but he is unable to resist the heady combination of anger and lust, the intoxicating pull of the other man’s taut, muscular body next to his, the hungry eyes piercing him with that taunting, challenging stare. He wants to wipe the mockery off Gisborne’s face: this man has taken Marian from him, and Robin wants him to pay “so he meets the challenge, the two men swapping steel for flesh as the weapon of choice as each tries to reduce his adversary to moaning helplessness “but Robin has not counted on Gisborne matching his every move with equal intensity. All he can do now is keep up his side of this passionate contest. And knowing that Marian is watching, he will not be the one to beg for mercy and lose by backing out.

They deepen the kiss, devouring and exploring each other, their tongues plunging and sliding and tasting – and caressing. Guy releases his grip on Robin’s shoulders, his hands travelling down the other man’s body, pressing him closer, sliding under the fabric to stroke his skin, and even though Robin has a chance to flee now, with only a small effort and a well-placed kick separating him from freedom, he makes no such move. Instead, his own hand tangles in Guy’s hair while the other one grips his buttocks, and Robin finds unexpected satisfaction in the excited shudder that his touch provokes.

Marian keeps watching, mesmerized, frozen in place, and is distinctly aware of her own arousal, her cheeks flaming at the ache building between her thighs. It should be wrong, it should be repulsive, but she cannot tear her eyes away – and she does not want the men to stop.

Guy raises his head to look at her again – he and Robin are still entwined, their hands busy loosening each other’s clothes – and by then his eyes are not so much burning with anger as drunk with lust. She is acutely jealous – in all the time she has known Guy, this expression has been reserved for her and her alone – and it occurs to her that this jealousy may have been his aim throughout. He is showing off to her, she thinks – with those maddening kisses, with his mastery over her would-be lover’s body that has Robin submitting to him in reckless abandon, he is giving her the most blatant reminder of how good he is even as he taunts her by lavishing these affections upon another. But in a perverse and impossibly enticing way, she is glad that she is there to witness and share this wantonness.

His attention back to Robin, Guy pushes him against a bedpost and pulls down the man’s trousers before he brings one arm around to draw him in for another kiss. Marian does not see his other hand, but from the way Robin jerks and thrusts his hips, she can tell what Guy is doing –and when he shoots her another malicious, gleeful look over Robin’s shoulder, she is overcome with the want to do the same to _him_ – but knows that his body is off limits to her by virtue of her misdeed, and it only makes her ache for him more, especially when she sees Robin’s hand reach for his crotch to reciprocate the caress and Guy inhales sharply and turns away from her to direct his attention once more to his present unlikely lover.

He is no longer sure what he is doing, knowing only that he cannot stop. His intention when threatening Hood with carnal violence, if any intention might be discerned in a state of white-hot rage, was to provoke his rival’s fear and savour his pleas for mercy before meting out punishment, maybe even to follow through with his threat and enjoy his humiliation while teaching Marian a lesson made more bitter by the retaliation being directed at her lover. But when Hood responded to his taunts, reality turned upside down as he saw his threats fail but found that there was more satisfaction in exchanging caresses with his enemy and watching his wife smoulder in jealousy than in inflicting pain and watching her recoil in growing resentment of his cruelty. This way he can triumph over them both, making Hood submit to his will and making Marian repent her mistake. It is all wrong, yet somehow makes complete sense.

“You ready for me, lover?” Guy growls into Robin’s ear before flipping him around so that his chest presses against the bedpost and pushing his legs apart. Robin’s eyes meet Marian’s, and his first reaction is a flicker of shame as he anticipates her horror and pity at seeing him submit to her husband, his by now almost-naked body completely in Guy’s power – but as he sees her uncontrollable fascination, he is suffused with arousal again. He hears Gisborne spitting onto his hand and starts at the intrusion as a finger is inserted into his body, but by now, his only way to win this battle is by outdoing his enemy in wantonness, and he sure as hell is going to win. Guy is probing him with two fingers now, stretching and stroking and claiming his body inside and out as his other hand reaches to curl around Robin’s shaft, pumping him in long, powerful strokes – and Robin laughs as he gives in to the unexpected pleasure and imagines Guy’s frustration at failing to unnerve him.

“You like this, you filthy little slut,” Guy hisses, his chin pressed against Robin’s neck, and Robin cannot protest anymore despite the insult, though when he sees the blush deepening on Marian’s cheeks, he realises that the words may have been meant for either one of them – or both. But all thoughts are soon wiped from his mind by the sensation of the other man’s hard cock sliding between his buttocks.

He closes his eyes and does his best to dissemble the discomfort when Guy pushes inside him, though the ordeal is made considerably easier as the pain mixes with a strange, savage pleasure produced by the loss of control and the heretofore unknown sensation of another man’ s flesh within his own, the exquisite pressure making his body quiver. He forgets in this moment about being in contest with Guy; all he is aware of is the man filling and pleasuring and possessing him, and the woman sitting motionless mere inches from him, her eyes fixed on both of them, no longer able to conceal her excitement as her breath becomes shallow, her mouth half opens and her hand slips between her legs before she sees her husband notice it and jerks it away. Robin has surrendered to this sinful craving, he only hopes that Guy is as consumed by it as he is, and before his mind goes blank and his consciousness shatters in a blinding flash, he is pleased to feel the other man convulse against him and inside him with a low, desperate groan.

They slump together against the bedpost in an awkward, exhausted embrace, eyes closed and bodies limp – and the next thing both know is the light touch of Marian’s hands on their shoulders as she finally rouses herself from her trance and presses her lips against each man’s mouth in turn.

“Forgive me,” she whispers, “both of you,” but her voice is laced with arousal instead of guilt.

“You want him still?” Guy breathes harshly at her, unwilling to concede a truce.

“I…” she does not know what to say. She did not truthfully want to be with Robin when he came to her chamber earlier on this fateful night. Whatever faults she may find with Guy, being a poor lover is definitely not one of them, and even though the prospect of Robin’s company was tempting, it was not so overwhelmingly irresistible as to justify living with a guilty conscience over committing adultery. Yet now that she has watched both men in the throes of carnal passion, she wants them _both at once_.

But Guy takes her confusion for acquiescence. If she cannot stop wanting Robin, he thinks resentfully, even after months of marriage, even after Robin’s submission to him, then he might as well let it happen, see the proof of her infidelity and stop deluding himself, come what may after that.

“You up for it, lover boy?” he darkly taunts Robin, who is lingering in the afterglow but has recovered some self-possession. He stalks over to the washbasin by the window, splashing water down his front and wiping himself dry before throwing the towel to Robin.

Robin’s eyes snap open.

The challenge is still on.

“Of course I am,” he drawls smugly, wondering if his body is up to it. But he will not lose face in front of Marian, whose incredulous yet wanton gaze urges him on – and he feels the twitches of arousal resurfacing already as his hand reaches for the hem of her nightshift, pulling it up over her knees. She turns to look at Guy, as if asking for his approval.

“Let him give you what you want.” he gives her a dangerous smirk. “while I watch.”

He expects her to recoil at that, to protest, or at least to register displeasure; but if their married life has not yet taught him that she is full of surprises, her next words do.

“Oh yes… I want you to watch me,” she exhales as she lifts the shift up over her head, before her hand curls around Guy’s shoulder to pull him to her.

It is probably wrong, definitely wrong, but she does not care, not after watching the two men has filled her with raging need. Reduced to being a passive observer, she is now getting her payoff. It is her chance to be with Robin, but also, ironically, to also win back her husband.

And it is Robin’s chance to redraw the rules of the contest, reinstating his virility in Marian’s eyes and leaving Gisborne shamed with his prowess as a lover. No matter that Gisborne has just played his body like a fiddle; Robin knows his way with women, and has yearned for _this_ woman too long to back away.

He drinks in the sight of her naked body. He would like to kiss her on the mouth, but Guy, watching over her at the head of the bed, glares murderously at him as soon as he moves in that direction, relegating him to kissing her breasts instead. Still, he is rewarded with a series of little moans, and he keeps flicking his tongue over her hard nipples before kissing his way down to her belly as he moves her legs apart – and even though Marian all but asked for it, she is momentarily embarrassed. No one except Guy, not even Robin, has touched her this way, and she reaches for Guy’s hand and grabs it as if seeking reassurance. She has been carried to this juncture by a tidal wave of lust, but she is out of her depth here.

As much as Guy may want to hold on to his anger, his bitterness crumbles in the face of this simple, silent appeal. He may have offered her body to Robin in resignation, but now wants Hood out of the way and Marian all to himself once more; still, pushing for that will make him a sore loser, or worse, a coward – and she will pine for Robin all the more. Even though he threw the taunt at his rival in a final misguided fit of resentment, he has no choice except to go through with it. But he rejoices as he notices Marian’s expression turn back from dismay to thrill when her eyes seek out his and he holds her gaze. It is as if bringing Robin between them, instead of tearing them apart, is drawing the two of them closer together.

She is relieved and happy to have seen the momentary flicker of concern in Guy’s face. It tells her, even if he is unwilling to admit it, that he cares still, and it sets her free to enjoy the attentions of both men. She shoots a glance at Robin kissing her thighs, but is too impatient with pent-up desire to let him go through with lengthy overtures. She reaches for his shoulder and pulls him up until his hips grind against hers, his mouth sucking at her breasts in turn, and is gratified to feel him sliding inside her.

She cannot say what excites her more, Robin’s ministrations or her husband’s eyes devouring her as he drinks in her every reaction, every flutter of her eyelids, every little moan and gasp. He has always been a caring lover, but with his mind and body occupied with pleasuring her, he has never had the chance to give his undivided attention to observing her. And Marian, a passionate if fickle mistress, has always kept him occupied with her own caresses that distracted him even more. Now is his chance to watch her unhindered. Now that their eyes fixed on each other’s face and their hands clenched together are their only connection, all the passion burning within her is channeled through her gaze, and as they keep watching each other, it is impossible to tell who is more aroused by the experience. She lifts her free hand from where it rested in Robin’s hair and tries to pull Guy to her for a kiss, but he shakes his head with a barely perceptible smirk, continuing to watch her, and if she is mildly annoyed at this teasing, she is much more thrilled at the sparkle in his eyes that accompanies it. When he finally gives in and lowers his face to hers and kisses her, just as Robin’s thrusts grow more intense, she cannot hold it any longer and moans desperately into Guy’s mouth as her body shudders in the throes of rapture.

She is barely aware of Robin’s climax following her own as she drifts in oblivion for a while, and a suspicion passes through her mind that everything up to that point must have been a strange delirious dream, but when she opens her eyes again, she finds both men sitting on either side of her, both watching her in an improbable truce. And seeing their still-hungry eyes riveted to her body fires up her craving once more – but this time, it is her husband she is after.

When he sees her stir, his eyes flick away, as if still unwilling to grant an outward sign of reconciliation, but her fingers dig into his arm, and her voice is urgent and, for once, pleading.

“Guy… I want you… I want you to take me now… please.”

To him, this is absolute if unexpected victory. He has seen the woman he loves and has been desperately afraid to lose give herself to his rival – and it has done nothing to diminish her longing for _him_.

And he’ll be damned if he does not savour every bit of it.

He lets his fingers and his tongue roam her skin, stroking and tasting, tracing circles and swirls, as slowly as his patience lets him. Hood may have brought her to climax, but Guy, her husband and lord and master and slave and servant, who has spent months worshipping her body, still knows it better – and he will have her begging for him in Hood’s presence again and again, not just once.

And as he continues his caresses and Marian’s eyes roll back and she repeats her urgent pleas, he flashes the other man a look of pure exultation… and fails to notice Robin’s cunning smirk in return.

When he plunges inside her at last, she is driven over the edge at the very first stroke. She was never able to repeat a climax so soon, but then again, she has never before experienced such heights of passion. With both of these men next to her, everything has been intensified – not twofold but a hundredfold. When she is once again aware of her surroundings, she can only watch and ride the aftershocks of her pleasure as her husband’s passion is released from the confines of patience and he thrusts relentlessly inside her. But her observation soon takes on an added interest as she watches Robin pull closer, licking his fingers before reaching shamelessly for Guy’s buttocks.

She feels rather than sees what Robin does to her husband’s body, his momentary tension giving way to heightened pleasure at the other man’s probing fingers, and the feral, overwhelming need for release taking over when Robin enters him. Guy is still inside her body, and while he is barely moving, the sensation is transmitted to her, heightened by his reaction. Now is her turn to watch, and she is sorry to see him turn away, unable to cope with the intensity, but she knows better than to intrude into the tiny speck of privacy he craves when his body is invaded and laid open in complete surrender, and her patience is rewarded when he finally turns back to look at her.

She has seen the extremes of Guy’s unchecked anger, but she has never seen him so out of control as a lover. It is a relatively subtle change – the way his half-closed eyes are brimming with raw passion, the way his ragged breath is interrupted by low moans – the way he never again lets go of her gaze as if she were the only thing keeping him from forever losing his grip on reality while she strokes his face and strains upwards to plant light kisses on his lips. She wants this to last, wants to savour every moment of it, but watching the beautiful unbridled ecstasy suffuse his face when he tilts back his head in a final husky moan before slumping on her chest in blissful exhaustion is no less satisfying.

For a long time, the three of them are too spent to move or even speak, strewn across the bed, staring up as they catch their breath. It is almost morning, the candle has burned out, and when light begins to seep in through the bedchamber window, Robin knows that it is time for him to leave. He gets up languidly from the bed and begins to pick up and put on his tattered clothes that he and Guy had shed on the floor in the first frenzy of their carnal contest a few hours earlier. Marian stirs on the bed and sidles up to Guy, who drapes an arm around her shoulders as he squints up at Robin. They are all cool and composed, as if the wonderful depravity of their couplings had never happened, but that composure in itself is born of the passions that have been ignited and satisfied in this most opportune of accidents.

“What now?” Guy asks, and Robin knows it to be an invitation. If his intentions were at all different, he would be issuing threats… if Robin were still alive to hear them.

“We can forget that it ever happened,” Robin offers lightly, and his suspicion – _hope_ to be honest – is confirmed when a shadow of disappointment crosses Guy’s face, “or we can let it happen again.”

Guy has been waiting for this, and takes the chance.

“But there are rules you must follow,” he growls, trying to ignore his wife’s excited shock as Marian looks from him to Robin. “Marian is my wife and the only way you get to see her is if I am there.”

When Robin nods, Marian chimes in.

“And the only way you get to see each other is if _I_ am there.” She tells herself that it is to stop the two men from killing each other if anything should go wrong, but the truth, no matter how far into the back of her mind she pushes it, is that she _wants_ to see them together again.

“And we pick the time and place so nobody besides the three of us ever suspects anything. No trysts in Locksley, no outings to the forest. When it is safe to meet, we meet here, in the castle.” Guy’s tone is stern and final.

Robin scoffs even as he nods his acquiescence. Of course; Guy wants Robin on his territory. Always holding on to control. Has not his recent experience taught him the benefits of giving it up?

“Very well. I’ll see you soon…” his teasing eyes flick from Marian to Guy, “both of you.”

He climbs onto the window sill, grabs the rope he used to get in the night before, and makes his way out of the castle, marveling at the turn of events. What should have been certain death has worked out to his – to everyone’s – advantage; they have each gained a lover – _he_ has gained _two – _and lost none. And so long as they stick to the rules, there is considerable pleasure to be had.

At the thought of the rules, a mischievous, subversive smirk spreads on Robin’s face.

_If last night was any indication, rules are made to be broken._

***

Before a fortnight had gone by, they _had_ broken those rules more than once, and in more than one way… but even though they all came to know the truth of it, none of them seemed to mind.

_fin_

.


End file.
